by Sharon Page
Sebastian claimed he wanted a real marriage—and she knew she couldn’t stand up with him in a church, even to go through with a fake one. “Sebastian, something has happened. Things have changed. I need to speak to you alone tonight.”
“My darling, any other night, I would be delighted to slip away to meet you. But not tonight.”
“Why not tonight?” She wanted this business dealt with. “You have other plans for the middle of the night?” She lifted her brow.
“Actually, I do. I’m...meeting a friend of mine at the pub in Brideswell-Upon-Lovey.”
“It’s about our engagement. Sebastian, I have to—”
“Zoe, we’ll talk tonight. I won’t be back late. We can meet at midnight. Outside, by the garage. It should be warm tonight.”
With that much time maybe she could talk herself out of this crazy need she had to break off her engagement. Maybe she could convince herself she had to go through with it.
And as for the duke—engrossed in conversation with Miss Strutt—he could go jump in Brideswell’s frosty lake.
Zoe noticed the dowager take a discreet step back to listen in. “All right,” she said. “Midnight. Sharp.”
* * *
But once Sebastian left, Zoe had a better idea. She assumed he was walking to the garage. He must be intending to drive to the pub, then return to meet her. She would catch him there before he left and get this business sorted right away.
As she hurried down to the garage, she was haunted by her mother’s warning. If she married Sebastian, she’d lose Nigel essentially forever.
She reached the garage. A wooden building, much more modern than the stone stables, had been put up for the automobiles.
Sometimes the chauffeur worked there at night, but tonight there was no light burning inside. A figure came out of the shadows beside the garage door. He quickly darted inside and closed the door behind him. It wasn’t Sebastian—in moonlight, Sebastian’s pale hair would glow like silver.
This man was dark. Nigel?
He was all alone in the garage and all she had to do was walk right in. They could do just what they’d done in the airplane, but this time stretched out in the backseat of a car.
A jolt of desire shot through her that almost brought her to her knees. Well, maybe they couldn’t do that, since she’d been careless about pregnancy before. But they could do other things. She slid the door open a few inches. She was about to slip in when a masculine voice said, “I was worried you weren’t going to come.”
Sebastian’s voice. It was soft and sensuous, as if he was sweet-talking someone. Had he seen her? But he didn’t expect her yet. She was about to call out to him when she saw a glint of light and Sebastian stepped out from between the Daimler and her car, carrying a candle. “But I’m glad you did...John.”
John?
John Ransome stepped forward, into the circle of light of the candle. The glow touched his high cheekbones and ran along the curve of his sulky mouth.
Sebastian’s face was tight with—with something that looked like agony. He took the last step that brought him close to John Ransome, so close their chests almost touched. They were both breathing hard. Their mouths were soft and gilded by the light of the candle and just inches from each other.
Then Sebastian took the last step and he wrapped his arm around Ransome’s neck, splayed his hand in the man’s hair and put his lips against his friend’s mouth.
Shock kept Zoe frozen there, her hand on the door latch. For a few wild moments, she knew she shouldn’t be standing there, watching this, and she didn’t want them to see her.
She turned away and pulled the garage door closed as quietly as she could.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she started walking. She didn’t know where. She just didn’t want to go back to the house.
There had been a play in New York. A jaded, popular Manhattan girl named Maisie had taken her to it. The most scandalous play in the city, she’d been told. Every young woman of good New York society seemed to think that just seeing the play would lead a woman down an intractable path of doom and corruption.
Maisie had been so wild and thrilling and dangerously fun. She had affairs with members of Harlem jazz bands and knew the secret passwords to every hot speakeasy in New York.
She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, and Zoe had spent every moment she could with Maisie. She wanted to learn how you stopped caring so you could live life.
The first moment the two actresses had placed their mouths close enough to touch, the entire audience held their collective breaths, waiting for the forbidden. Then the two girls on stage had kissed.
Zoe had been paralyzed, though Maisie hadn’t been shocked at all. Her large brown eyes had been bright, full of excitement. Her pupils were huge and black with the drugs that were sold in the shadowy back rooms of private parties and speakeasies.
Maisie had leaned back, hiking her skirt up to show her rolled-down stockings and her bare thigh. “In the modern world, a girl can experiment with sex however she wants. That’s what my set is about. We try everything.” Maisie’s gaze had raked over her boldly. “You aren’t going to be boring and old-fashioned, are you?”
In that moment, Zoe had known she couldn’t do anything that daring. She was boring and old-fashioned after all. After that, she’d stopped seeing Maisie.
So she wasn’t shocked to know Sebastian preferred men. But knowing he had tried to con her was different. That hurt.
“Miss Gifford.”
She let out a cry of surprise. It was Nigel. Walking purposely toward her across the gravel drive.
He’d called her Miss Gifford. They’d made love this afternoon, and he was being correct again.
She couldn’t understand him.
How could he have changed back to being icy after being so hot and steamy with her? It had awakened all kinds of delicious feelings inside her. He just looked...grim.
“I want to talk to you.” He caught hold of her arm and led her back to the garage. “We’ll go in here. We will not be disturbed.” He passed her and went to the door. He pressed down the latch.
She grabbed his hand. “No.”
Nigel arched a ducal brow. “No? Miss Gifford, we will talk and we will do so now.”
Maybe it was his return to icy, autocratic behavior. She’d thought she was falling in love; he was behaving as if they were strangers. Zoe knew this feeling—to expose one’s heart, only to have it stomped upon. Whatever it was—something made her want to shock him.
“Sebastian is in there,” she said, exaggerating a jaded, careless tone, but keeping her voice very soft, “with his friend Captain Ransome. They kissed. I think it would be embarrassing to interrupt them. It would probably lead to a scene, and I know how you dislike scenes.”
10
THE PROPOSAL
Nigel stood there, like a stone statue with his hand on the door. After an age, there was a click of the latch falling back into place. Slowly he drew his hand from the handle. “Did you just say that—that they are—are—?”
Zoe realized he couldn’t say it in front of her. She whispered, “I said they are kissing.”
“How do you know this?”
She moved away from the garage to the edge of the gravel drive in front of it, near some trees, and he followed. “I wanted to speak to Sebastian alone—I wanted to break off our engagement. But when I went into the garage, he was with Captain Ransome. I was standing in the doorway and neither man noticed me. When Sebastian drew Ransome into a kiss, I slipped out.”
The duke winced. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”
“I didn’t mean to catch them at such a personal moment.”
“You shouldn’t have seen anything so scandalous.”
“I do know it happens
. I’ve known men like that—there are many in fashionable New York. I’ve even seen plays in which women kiss.”
If his jaw could have fallen off and hit the gravel, it would have. “You are—you are very sophisticated.” He made it sound scandalous.
“I’m not. But I’m not shocked.” She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust her hip forward. “What hurts is that when he was courting me, he was conning me. I didn’t mean a damn thing to him. But he thought I was naive enough to believe him. And that hurts.”
Nigel winced. “I am sorry you were hurt. And I am sorry, but you are correct.”
Then she realized the truth. It was cool on the drive, but she began to feel awfully hot. And angry. “You knew all along about him. You knew why he was not in love with me. That was what you were trying to tell me in my car.”
“He believed marriage would protect him from rumors. A long-term marriage would accomplish that better. A marriage that dissolved shortly after the supposed wedding night might only feed rumors.”
“And you went along. For the sake of the family, of course.” She let the last words ripple out in careless tones, but rage now made her shake. “Okay, you did try to warn me. But why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“I couldn’t. It is Sebastian’s secret. I had no right to tell you. Do you now see why I have disapproved of this from the beginning? That time you saw Sebastian punch me? That was why. He’d outlined his plan and I was furious. I knew you had lost your fiancé. You were vulnerable. But you were so stubborn, you refused to listen.”
“So that is why you hit your brother over me?”
“Yes.” And he turned red. Then he frowned. “Why are you ending the engagement, if the marriage was just to end in divorce?”
God, why did he think? Did he feel anything for her at all? Did the fact he’d punched Sebastian mean anything? She couldn’t see any desire for her in his grim expression.
“I couldn’t go through with a marriage with him when I was making love with you,” she said softly. “I don’t understand you. I thought after—after what happened, things would be different. Tell me, Nigel, why did you get into that airplane with me?”
“Because I did not think.”
She drew back. “What a damned answer.” She whirled and stalked away.
She had been falling in love with him, and he didn’t care two bits about her. She’d thought his passion meant something—meant that he was dazzled by her, that he wanted her.... She’d thought it meant more than that. She’d thought if she could get the Duke of Langford to do something wild like that with her, he had to be falling in love with her.
She’d been wrong.
His footsteps crunched behind her. “I am sorry, Miss Gifford. Zoe. I expressed that badly. Please, let me walk you back.”
She turned. “Don’t bother. If you think following me will get you under my skirt this time, you’re wrong.” She threw out the words, full of anger. And not just at him. She didn’t care what she said. She wanted to hurt him, even if her words physically hurt her, too.
Visible pain showed on Nigel’s face, but she kept walking. Fast. He ran after her—she heard his steps on the gravel. He caught her arm and stopped her. He raked his hand through his hair, making it stick out. “As to what happened in the—the aeroplane, that is what we have to discuss.”
“Discuss?”
“Yes. You see, Zoe, I owe you—”
“So this is where you disappeared to. Grandmama is having a fit, Nigel. She was hoping to attach you to Miss Strutt.” Julia came walking toward them, emerging from the shadows, and she screwed up her face in an exaggerated expression of pain. “They never leave us alone until we marry. Were you going to escape by going for a drive?”
Julia gazed innocently at them both, then looked toward the garage. Nigel jumped in front of her view, grasped his sister’s arm and turned her to face the house. Zoe saw the panic in his eyes. “No,” he said quickly, “we were going back to the house.”
“Are you up to something? You look nervous.” Her gaze flicked from him to Zoe. Her eyes widened. “Oh,” she said.
“What do you mean ‘oh’?” Nigel demanded. “We are not up to anything. There’s no reason for an ‘oh,’ Julia. Now, let’s take you back to the house.” He put his hand to Julia’s back and forced her to walk swiftly away from the garage.
It was awkward, but funny, too. He was trying to protect Julia and Sebastian, Zoe supposed. It was very sweet how worried he was.
He was an irritating man, but in many ways a good one.
Maybe she could understand why he hadn’t told her about Sebastian. Besides, could she really imagine Nigel telling her that Sebastian preferred men? He wouldn’t have got the words out of his mouth. But he’d tried to warn her, in his own way.
Zoe glanced back to the closed wooden door. The anger she’d felt was still there, but Nigel’s apologies had taken the edge off it. She supposed Sebastian was desperate. He was afraid. He was also in love with someone he could not have—at least not publicly.
Now she understood the bitterness and anger seething in him. His devil-may-care attitude must be hiding a great deal of pain.
Marriage would still help save Sebastian from rumors. And it would save her, too.
Could she go through with it? A good businesswoman would do it. Was she going to throw her mother into risk of prosecution by Uncle Hiram just because she couldn’t forget Nigel—a man who obviously would never love her back?
* * *
Julia stayed with them as they walked to the house and accompanied them upstairs. At the door to the corridor that led to the women’s bedrooms, Nigel said good-night to both of them, went to his bedroom and paced the floor. After twenty minutes, he gambled on returning.
At Zoe’s door, Nigel looked up and down the hallway. All was quiet, and no sound came from inside her room. He knocked as discreetly as he could.
The door started to open. At that moment Nigel recognized his error—this was likely Zoe’s maid, there to undress her. Panic rose. He took a step in retreat—
The hand that slipped around the door was slender, graceful, the nails glossy with red polish, the very tips unadorned. That was definitely Zoe. Her face appeared in the small space between door and frame. She was freshly washed. He hadn’t seen her without makeup since the night in the Savoy. Her lips were full and lush but a pale pink. Her lashes were long and golden.
She looked younger.
Of course, she was only twenty.
He felt a spurt of guilt, but he was used to the feeling. “Miss Gifford, I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Let me in before someone sees me. Please.”
“You have to answer one question first. Close your eyes.”
Nigel did what she asked, confused. Anyone could catch him out here. There was no time for games. Did she not understand that?
“I’m wearing a silk robe and nothing else. Imagine taking my robe off me. Sliding it down my shoulders and letting it fall, leaving me completely...exposed to you. If you think about that, what do you want to call me? Zoe or Miss Gifford?”
God, he was in pain picturing that image. “I do not have the right to call you Zoe. Not anymore. Not unless I have the chance to make things right.” He opened his eyes.
She frowned. “That wasn’t the answer I expected.” But she opened the door wide and stepped back, letting him enter her room and close the door behind him.
She wore a pink silk robe that clung to her slender figure.
Was there really nothing underneath?
Damn, he had no right to wonder.
She had one of Brideswell’s best rooms, but before Zoe had come into it, it had looked a bit shabby. Furniture had been sold, the carpet was worn, bed hangings faded. Now it sparkled—go
ld brushes on the vanity, dozens of faceted glass bottles, jewels cast over the table, glittering dresses lying over the remaining chairs, the end of the bed. As if she was so busy grasping life that she had no time to care about anything.
“I dismissed my maid early tonight,” she said. “I never guessed you’d come to see me, though.” She stopped and turned around. “There’s something I have to know.”
Next thing he knew, her arms were around his neck and her mouth was wildly, passionately setting fire to his.
He caught hold of her arms and gently pushed her back. His breath came as fast as hers—in quick, shallow pants. “Nothing more can happen now, Zoe. I should behave respectfully, because I know you were innocent before this afternoon, in the aeroplane.”
“Shouldn’t the way you treat a girl depend on how you feel about her? Do you want to kiss me or not?”
“I have to behave like a gentleman. That is why I came to your room tonight.”
“Really?” She sat on the edge of the small writing desk and crossed her legs. The silk fell away, revealing their beautiful length. Making it hard for him to think.
He couldn’t understand her. He had taken her innocence. But she hadn’t demanded anything from him.
He didn’t know what to make of her. He understood the rules of Englishwomen. Zoe did not seem to be bound by any rules.
What did it mean for a marriage when he didn’t understand her?
But he did desire her like mad. That was going to have to be enough to make the marriage work.
He cleared his throat. “Zoe, there is something I must say to you.”
“You look so serious I feel like I’ve been hauled in front of a judge.” She dragged a silver case off the writing desk and took out a cigarette.
Nigel cleared his throat. “Given what has happened between us, it is my duty to marry you.”
* * *
He was using the stuffiest, most pompous tones she had ever heard him use. He didn’t bend down onto one knee. Instead, he raked back his hair, then paced in front of her.